Extra Due South Snippets
by IchthusFish
Summary: Collection of short stories written in response to prompts on ds snippets LiveJournal, which have elements unsuitable for lower ratings.
1. Constructive Naivety

Disclaimer: I don't own Due South in any way, shape or form. No copyright infringement is intended. This is just for fun. I think that fanfic is a good way to explore what happens in between, and as a result of, the episodes. So, on with the exploration.

Notes: Credit to elle-ze-bob for suggesting the dubious, overheard conversation which precipitated this snippet. It's all her fault... really.

Pairing: Gen - Fraser, RayK, Thatcher, Welsh  
Rating: M  
Warnings: one explicit colloquialism  
Length: 300  
Prompt: cardboard, homoerotic, _That no one knows what is good, __Who knows not what is evil; __And no one knows what is true, __Who knows not what is false. (_Edgar Lee Masters, "Seth Compton")

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**Constructive Naivety**

"It's just a saying Fraser."

"Well, I know he was _saying _it Ray. I just think that we should get some form of welfare service involved."

Ray sighed heavily as they entered the squad room. "Look, its something ya say. Like - this is like drinking cardboard." He took a sip of his coffee and pulled a face. "Which it is."

"Ah, might I suggest a different beverage container."

Ray stared at him is despair, throwing a beseeching look at Thatcher and Welsh as they approached from the Lieutenant's office.

"It's a colloquialism Constable," explained Thatcher patiently. "An expression some people use in certain situations to describe things in an informal yet exaggerated manner, thus conveying something entirely different to what it sounds like they're actually saying."

"Right," said Ray, looking slightly uncertain.

"He means his coffee is lacking in substance and flavour," concluded the Inspector.

"There ya go," agreed Ray.

"Ah," said Fraser, enlightenment showing in his eyes. Then with a completely innocent expression he asked, "So, when the gentleman was referring to 'spanking his boyfriend's monkey' there was no actual injury to an animal involved?"

Ray choked on his cardboard coffee. Welsh raised a hand to his head as though in pain and retreated to the safety of his office. Someone dropped a stack of files.

Thatcher turned a rather interesting shade of red, closely matching the colour of her subordinate's uniform, her face displaying an impressive range of contortive expressions.

"Never mind," she finally ground out, stalking away as fast as dignity allowed.

Ray's hysterical laughter was loud in the near silent room. He was doubled up, slapping his thighs, tears streaming down his face and seemingly struggling for breath. Fraser regarded him with a bemused look. He wore that expression for the rest of the day.

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	2. Heat

Disclaimer: I don't own Due South in any way, shape or form. No copyright infringement is intended. This is just for fun. I think that fanfic is a good way to explore what happens in between, and as a result of, the episodes. So, on with the exploration.

Notes: Set between the end of Season Two, and the beginning of Season Three.

Pairing: Thatcher / Fraser  
Rating: M  
Length: 300  
Prompt: point, thigh, eager, flash, fireworks

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**Heat**

The near blinding flash is still bright in her eyes as he runs towards her. He's talking to her, even as he's assessing her. Reporting that he's managed to immobilise the last of the perpetrators, and secured them with the one's they'd rounded up together. Reassuring her that everything is fine, but backup's still a few hours out.

It's only half going in.

Slowly, her focus comes down to a single point. Fraser. He's stopped talking. Stopped assessing. Looking into her face, seeking... something. They connect with a single, shared thought.

_That was too darn close._

Then he's pulling in towards her and she knows that he's going to kiss her. Knows that she's going to break every rule she has ever sworn to live by. Again. And she stops thinking. Stops analysing. She closes the distance between them to meet his lips eagerly, and Fraser's hesitation ceases.

With the briefest of checks that they won't to be interrupted, he takes her into his arms, and she is lost. Aware only of his touch on her skin. The heat of his thigh as it presses against her own. The warmth of his breath where it interrupts the cool air. In his embrace, she sees fireworks.

It isn't love. Not exactly. Just the hungry passion of two people who've almost died saving the world.

When she comes out of her pleasant haze, she collects herself quickly, and leaves to deal with their late arriving backup, aware that he is doing her the courtesy of pretending not to wake. And later he'll be all guilty and subdued, and adamant to the last that he isn't upset. And she'll wish that things could be different, and that she doesn't really feel the way she can't afford to.

But she'll deny it, if asked.

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